Let Her Soul Burn
by o-seastarved
Summary: "You know," he said. "You're different than I thought you were." "You're different than I thought you were, too," she said quietly. Allison didn't know why she felt the need to touch him. - Isaac/Allison. Picks up at the end of 3x04. Isaac shows up at Allison's instead of Scott's, making way for some burning, unexplainable attraction with pitfalls along the way.
1. Chapter 1

_Wow! I haven't written anything in the longest time, and this is my first foray into Teen Wolf. So please forgive me, I'm rusty. Anyway, I'm obsessed and I'm obsessed with Isaac. And Allison. And them together. So I needed an outlet or I'd go nuts. Any and all feedback is encouraged and welcome, I'd love to write more. Whether it be of this or just in general. -Air_

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Allison's voice was weak and shaky, which she hated. Her nerves bundled up and squeezed her insides and knocked her off her internal balance at the sight of him. Isaac. Standing in her room. Soaking wet.

Isaac's eyes swept down. He licked some rain from his lips. When he met her gaze again the blue of his eyes seemed duller, more hollow and lost. "I uh, can I ask you a favor?"

She had no idea what to make of it, and it made her uncomfortable. She crossed her arms, shielding herself and glanced off to the side, finding strength from the color of her bedroom wall. "Sure, yeah. I guess."

"I need somewhere to stay," he said and scratched his wet, moppy hair. "Derek, he uh, he kicked me out." And he gulped hard, looked away.

Neither of them were very fond of eye contact at the moment.

"I don't have anyone…anywhere to go," he continued.

"What about Scott?" she whispered. He made her uneasy. He reminded her of what she had turned into and it scared her to look into the eyes of someone she'd nearly killed, not having bothered to look him in the eyes before.

He attacked her in a closet and she helped him ride a motorcycle earlier that day. That was it.

Why was he here? Why did he sneak into her bedroom window. Why did he come to her? Of all people. Of all places.

"I don't want to be let down again. Run out by someone I…" he trailed off.

Allison suddenly broke out into an incredulous laugh. It was the only thing she could do, facing something so bewildering as Isaac dripping wet ten feet in front of her, telling her he came to her because he didn't care as much about her. She could disappoint him just fine.

But Isaac's jaw tightened and he turned away, ready to head back out into the rain.

Something pulled in her. 'Wait," she called out and he faced her again. "I'll get you a towel."

* * *

_"Isaac!" she yelled, trying to settle him, trying to reach him. She needed to fend him off, all she could think to do over and over was to call his name and hope he heard. _

_He wasn't a feral wolf out to maim and kill, under the influence of the full moon, but a scared teenage boy, unable to quell the rising panic that consumed him. Still, her panic grew to meet his and she started to fear for her life. _

_"Isaac!" _

_The sound of her voice always brought Scott back to her. But Isaac was wild. _

_And then the door flew open._

* * *

Allison tip toed through the hallway so as not to wake her father, and took great care to shut her door with the softest latch. When she turned around she jumped and dropped the bundle of fabric from her arms.

Isaac was sitting on her bed, his tall frame slumped and his arms wrapped around a shivering body. He startled at her act of clumsiness and she flustered under his gaze. She pulled the items back to her.

When she stood back up, her cheeks felt pink, and his face was awash with a look she'd only seen earlier that day.

* * *

_"I'm sorry, I didn't - I didn't mean to do that,"_ _Isaac said when he saw her thrashed wrist._

_Scott wanted to make it a big deal. Isaac wanted to make it a big deal. But all Allison could see was Isaac's face, open and exposed, and she could see him. The disdain he had for her in detention, the blasé demeanor he used to address her had made her prickle with indignation. She had seen him as pompous and impulsive and hotheaded, but never so fragile. Never so human._

* * *

"I uh, found some of my dad's sweatpants. I think they should fit," she said and placed them and a neatly folded towel next to him. But he just sat there, shivering, looking down at his feet. "Isaac?" she said, but she imagined her voice trickled out and was lost in some cavernous place within him.

She knelt down before him, tucked her legs under her and battled with herself in awkward silence until she finally leaned in and splayed her palm out across his chest. His white t-shirt was translucent, cold, and clinging to his torso. She could feel his heart racing beneath his sculpted muscles as she urged him with her eyes to look at her.

* * *

_She'd put her hand over his on the throttle of the motorcycle and when she pulled it back it was hot. They didn't have much time, they had something to do, and yet she couldn't help but feel like an electric current was coursing through her and energizing her. _

_And then she realized how close she was to him. Face to face. And when she met his eyes she sucked in a breath. _

_"Try not to crash," she said._

_"Yeah, been there. Done that," he countered._

* * *

"You're freezing," she said before she peeled his shirt off and discarded it on the floor. Her hand returned to where it rested before and couldn't help but dance along his skin.

"You know," he said. "You're different than I thought you were."

"You're different than I thought you were, too," she said quietly.

Allison didn't know why she felt the need to touch him. But she thought she was drawing him out, healing him somehow, connecting him to her.

His hand snaked around hers and wrapped gently around her bandaged wrist. The two moved in accordance with the rise and fall of his chest.

"Why'd you really come?" she asked breathily and leaned in to place a kiss on his chest. She felt him shudder and tense. What had come over her and compelled her to do that? "You don't like me," she continued and trailed her lips further up. She felt this pull, like magnetism, towards him.

"I don't - I don't know," he managed to strangle out. She kissed his collarbone. "Why are you-"

"I don't know," she said and ended the trail her lips followed at his shoulder. She pulled back.

His eyes searched her in bewilderment, amazement. The air expelled from their lungs hung heavy and hot between them until Isaac moved forward. She felt his lips get closer to hers, so close to the touch that she felt the brush of them before she jerked back.

"Take your pants off," she said and immediately cringed.

"Excuse me?" Isaac said with a wry smile.

"Gahh, I mean. Here," she said and handed him the sweatpants. "You're still soaked."

Isaac took them from her tentatively. She'd broken the mood and now everything was awkward. Every movement she made felt like the wrong one. And he was just staring at her, waiting, waiting for what?

"Oh!" she said. "I'll turn around and um, you can sleep here. On the floor. I'll get you some…stuff." She shuffled over to the other side of her bed and opened her closet, searching for her extra blankets and pillows.

She heard the zipper of his jeans and the shuffle of thick fabric and couldn't help but sweep her head to the side and catch a glimpse of his back. She caught the movement his shoulder blades made, expanding and contracting, as he pulled on the sweatpants before she turned back and continued her search into the depths of her closet.

Ah-ha! She reached out an arm to the top shelf but snapped it back when she felt firm, commanding hands settle on her hips and hot breath at her ear.

"So, how about that apology?" he said. His voice was different. It was back to bravado. That confidence that was so aggravating and so appealing.

He spun her around to face him, his nose inches from hers.

"I don't know," she parried playfully and crinkled her nose. "How does helping you get back at the twins, teaching you how to ride a motorcycle, and taking you in from out in the rain all in one day stack against stabbing you-"

"Stabbing me a lot," he said.

"-with chinese ring daggers?" she finished.

She found her hands had traveled to his biceps and coiled around them. She felt as if he were supporting her entire weight.

He cocked his head to the side in mock consideration before, "Not even close."

"Well, I guess we've reached an impasse then," she said breathily. It was a natural reaction, caused by the science that involved Isaac's very tall frame hovering over her, inches from her, his nose tickled her nose and-

He swept in and caught her lips in an arresting kiss. It was demanding, yet fluid, as the meeting of the air and sea. His lips were listless against hers, but strong and probing. And as she let out a gasp he wandered away to explore the sharp edge of her jawline, to the crevices of her neck and along her collarbone. He had to dip down lower to reach and as he did his slender fingers curled under the hem of her shirt and drew it up and over her head.

His mouth explored down, down, down, towards her breasts until she tugged at his curls and crushed her mouth back against his, missing the heat it had brought her. That same heat she had felt before began to build and clamor within her so that her kiss was more ardent than before.

Her fingers found themselves in the space between his hip bone and the elastic waist of his sweatpants and applied pressure. He took her bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged slightly before letting go.

Allison whimpered. She wanted more. More of him. More of the burning she felt when she touched him. More of this elusive boy who set her on edge all the time.

"Isaac," she managed to mewl out as his hands raked over her body and his mouth suckled on the space where her neck met her collarbone.

She was going to tell him she wanted him. She was going to tell him through the hooded, foggy veil of arousal and electricity that she didn't care about anything except wanting him.

Her hands slipped down further under his sweatpants. "Isaac," she said again.

She heard a guttural rumble come from deep in his chest, and a vibration that chilled her. When Isaac pulled away his eyes were glowing yellow and the points of his teeth had erupted.

Allison gasped and brought a hand to her mouth, but reached that same hand out to grab his shoulder as he turned away from her.

"No," he said and bucked her off. He was heaving, trying to stop the full transformation. His hands fell to her mattress and he hovered there, half bent over.

"Hey," she said warmly and reached for him again but he slapped her away more violently.

"Allison, stop," he growled. "You'll make it worse."

She waited, standing behind him in awkward silence as his breath began to even out, becoming shallower, quieter. She could see his back muscles collapse from the rigidity he'd held them in and he slumped down.

"Derek. He um, never taught you how to control it in these situations I'm guessing," she said with a half smile. "I can teach you," she added sheepishly.

He gave her a contemptuous look, like the one from detention earlier that day. "Thanks, but I'd rather not role-play the tame adventures of Allison and Scott," he said.

Her face fell. "Fine," she said in a clipped voice and pursed her lips together.

A moment later he was being handed a pillow and balled up blanket right to the face.

"I sleep on this side. You can take the other. On the floor," she said before turning the lights out and shoving herself under the covers of her bed in a huff.

* * *

_I don't know, thoughts? It kind of just swept me along with it. _


	2. Chapter 2

_Well I've decided to continue with this little fic! Thanks so much for the response to those who reviewed, and for the favorites and follows. It's just really fun to sit down and play around with these guys. I definitely have no idea where this is going at all so it's kind of an experiment in fluidity and imagination. Bear with me, and I hope you like it! Review review review please. Even just to say hey. Thanks! -Air_

* * *

His stare bore into her every time she passed in the hallways at school. She clung to Lydia, and he to Scott. They never spoke. But his eyes, when they flicked up and stalked her, made her jaw tighten.

He'd sit directly behind her in classes, too. Allison wondered if he changed at all when out of her sight. When he was there she felt like she was suffocating, but it was more welcome to her than the tenseness she felt whenever they came face to face. He maintained a steely, sour look, but sometimes the corners of his mouth would twitch up into a smirk. Allison hated that even more.

Sure, he was still crashing in her room each night. But he'd stay out, God knows where, until she was asleep. Or thought she was. She was often awake, but would close her eyes and steady her heart rate through steady breathing. She memorized his routine. He slipped through the window, dropped his backpack, snuck into the kitchen to grab the leftovers Allison told her dad she took to school the next day, and went to sleep. He showered before the sun came up and left for school before she woke.

Allison generally wasn't sleeping at night anymore. In the quiet of her room the rise and fall of his lungs was a deafening, steady symphony. She couldn't shake it from her mind that there was another body on the floor of her bedroom. Isaac's body.

"Lydia," Stiles' strained voice wrung out and snapped Allison from her daze. "For the love of _God_ please just let me sit here."

"Hmmm," Lydia mused and tilted her head as she waved her fork in tiny circles. "Why would I do that?" she asked innocently.

"Because Scott and Isaac are driving me in-_sane_ to the point where I'd rather spend lunch period with _you_ than listen to them for one more second," Stiles said and it looked like a vein was about to pop from his neck.

Allison giggled. "That's saying something."

Lydia's brow furrowed. "Hey," she whined.

"Come on," Allison said and scooted over to let him sit. Stiles plopped down and banged his head on the table. "Oh, it can't be that bad," Allison rolled her eyes.

"All they do is play video games. Every. Single. Night. Or watch the _Fast and the Furious _franchise. And talk about it the next day. And then repeat it all," he said.

"Aren't you a teenage boy also? Or did I miss something?" Lydia said, unconcerned with his pomp and circumstance. His left cheek was splayed against the table completely now.

Allison patted his head. "Sounds like you and the wife need a date-night."

Stiles' expression softened. "Awww I'm the husband in this scenario? That's so sweet," he crooned.

* * *

A cooling fog had fallen on the forrest floor, which Allison welcomed during her after school run. She almost always ran with music, but on days like today, she opted out. The crunch of fallen leaves under her sneakers and the birds and squirrels fluttering in the tree tops made her calm, attune to nature.

She liked being alone, her padding footsteps the only thing that made a blunder for a mile. Until-

She wanted to freeze, but she forced herself to act normal. All of her senses heightened and tuned in. There was a second step of running footsteps, just a few seconds off of her own rhythm.

She had no weapon. She had to get creative. Shit. Her heart panicked for her and began to wildly thump against her chest. The fear that she hated so much crawled back into her, snaking around her throat until it became hard to breathe.

"Hey!" a voice startled her.

Allison yelped and instantly delivered a round-kick behind her, catching a torso with her sneaker. The torso tumbled to the ground and as she followed through she went down with it.

Soon she realized she'd just pinned Isaac to the forrest floor.

"Isaac?"

He grunted in discomfort.

"Yeah, hi," he said dryly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, hovering over him.

"Good question," he said and clearly felt satisfied with that answer.

Allison didn't.

"Scott asked me to look out for you after school today. I heard your heart rate spike, so-" he said and shifted his eyes down towards the hand grasping his wind wipe. "Can you um, ease up?"

Allison snapped her hand back.

"It spiked because of you, genius. Haven't you learned not to stalk people in the woods yet? It never ends well-wait _Scott_ asked you?" Allison was befuddled. She was so caught up arguing with Isaac that she'd bypassed the actual issue at hand.

Isaac grimaced and rubbed his eyes. "Uh, yeah about that. He kind of…follows you on your run every day after school." He did not want to divulge that information.

A flame lit within Allison. Nothing riled her up more than someone treating her like a weak little girl.

"Are you _kidding? _I can take care of myself," she said with conviction.

"You don't have to convince me," he said and flicked his gaze towards the current situation. Allison finally took in her surroundings, the muddy leaves smashed against her leggings, the fact that her leggings were pressing up against Isaac's hips on either side. The fact that she was straddling Isaac.

"Oh," she piped out in a clipped voice and hoisted herself up.

Isaac followed suit and began to dust the brush off of him. "Wow, so you're feisty," he said and puffed out a pillow of breath.

Allison crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, but the edges of her mouth couldn't help but curl up.

Isaac rolled his eyes and deflated. "Look, Scott and Stiles went to do something and I did him a favor. He asked. That's all. Sorry I scared you." His long armed flapped at his sides.

Allison's wry smile grew. She nodded curtly and pivoted her feet to walk away, but halted. "You didn't scare me," she parried.

Isaac matched her smile with one of his own.

"Sure," he said.

And they parted ways.

* * *

Her duvet was smothering her. It was hot and stale in her room. She couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe, couldn't relax. She was stifled by the recurring thought in her mind of legs pressed tightly against hips. She couldn't shake it. She wanted to feel it again. She wanted to be on top of Isaac, creating friction between the fabric of their clothes, her hand on his abs, her hair floating down towards him.

She replayed it over and over again until she thought she'd go mad. He infuriated her. He was infuriating.

But she was burning up.

* * *

_sorry no makeouts whoops. those will be delivered soon though I swear. sorry for the short chapter, there's a reason! hopefully the next will be up this weekend. _


	3. Chapter 3

_Guuyyys, the response to this story continuing has been great, I can't thank you enough for reviewing, favoriting and following. It's definitely inspired me and gotten my brain working overtime on this still directionless, but super fun, thing. I almost never can write a full chapter in a day, but I did it! Hope it doesn't disappoint and lives up to expectations. As always, thoughts, musings, comments and critiques are always welcome as they really help me think more about what I'm doing. Enjoy! -Air_

* * *

Allison had been tossing and turning for hours. She'd thrown her covers off of her in a fit of frustration. She'd pulled them back up. She threw them back off.

When she heard the click of the window she willed herself to be still. Her duvet was bunched at her feet and she wondered if she could throw it over herself without being noticed. Negative. She closed her eyes, begged her heart to stop racing.

She traced his usual steps. The thud of the backpack. The unzipping of his jeans. The muffled denim gathering on the floor.

"I know you're awake."

Allison's racing heart jumped straight to her throat. Crap. She opened her eyes, uncurled from the perfectly postured side sleeping position she was in and flopped herself back on the bed. She let out a deep sigh that vibrated from her lips.

"Can't sleep?" he asked. His voice was deep and calm and even.

Allison pulled herself up and sat on her ankles. "Nope," she said sheepishly. He was turned away from her, pulling his shirt over his head. So Isaac was a boxer-briefs guy. Allison blew a stray piece of hair away from her face and he turned, but froze.

"What?" Allison asked.

She then remembered what a mess she must look like. Her hair on top of her head, loose pieces sticking out and falling everywhere. A pink tank top paired with clashing orange panties. Oh, right, she was usually hiding under the covers from him every night. She was in her underwear. And she felt a light sheen of sweat all over he body. It was gross.

But just as she bit her lip self-consciously, she caught Isaac's gaze and she'd seen it before. His eyes were sparkling but hooded, his lips drawn thin but wide with interest.

"Something's got you hot and bothered." he said and bent down to pick up the pair of sweatpants she had given him.

His smirk instilled a certain competition in her, a shock of confidence that made her swell with the same ostentation he bolstered.

She lifted herself up on her knees, met his smirk and cocked her head. "I don't know I might have a fever. Will you check?"

Isaac hesitated. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes were wide and inquisitive. He recovered though and soon met her at the edge of her bed. She tilted her chin up as the back of his hand rested on her forehead.

His hand swept down and outlined the edge of her face, traced her ear, danced along her collarbone. "You're very hot," he whispered, but his eyes were focused on the dance his fingers played against her bones.

"Sweltering," she whispered back. Her hands curled around up and around his shoulders. He was still standing over her, and she straightened her thighs to their edge in order to reach more to his height. Her palms traveled down his back and followed the dip of his spine. Calming, entrancing … until she struck.

Allison yanked her arms and twisted her torso in one swift movement in order to turn Isaac around and send him flush against her mattress. She smiled a wicked smile as she took in her thighs clenched around his hips. The way her knees dug into his sides and how her underwear allowed her to feel the bulge within his Calvin Klein's.

"You have a thing for being on top?" Isaac said and began to hoist himself up, his large hands enveloping her and-

A harsh palm pushed against his sternum and sent him back down. "Maybe I do," Allison said.

Allison felt a sense of ownership of the situation, and it turned her on in a way she'd never experienced. She felt powerful and it coursed through her entire body. She felt in control.

But just as she began to settle in, he bucked his hips and might as well have knocked her over. A jolt burst through her and unraveled her. She gasped and then there he was, sitting up, cupping her in his lap, breathing humid and hot against her cheek.

She ground her hips down and relished in the sound that emitted from him. "Allison," he choked out. "Stop. It's…it's not-"

"It's not what?" she said.

Isaac's jaw clenched. His pupils were open and deep and she could have dove in them and gotten lost. "It's not a good idea. I'm - I don't have the best control over, over my-" he stammered.

"I thought you said you knew I could handle myself," she breathed in his ear before darting her tongue out to trace its outline.

"I do. I do know," he said in a strained voice. "I just don't want to be something you have to handle."

Allison sobered and pulled back to search his face. He wasn't talking like Scott did. He wasn't trying to protect her; he was trying not to burden her.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not very reigned in," he said softly but firmly, unblinking.

"No," she mused, curling her tongue along her teeth. "But maybe I want a wild thing."

* * *

"You know, maybe this is my own personal experience, but parties and us don't tend to mix well," Stiles said. "I mean, girl taken from wine cellar, you poisoning all of us with wolf's bane. Oh yeah, and the murderous rave. Do I need to go on?"

Lydia chewed absent-mindedly on the straw to her iced coffee. "Please don't," she said.

"Oh!" Stiles cried. "And the gay club where Jackson wreaked havoc as well."

"Well, you certainly don't have to come," Lydia said.

Stiles gawked. "Are you? Are you kidding? Yes I do. You _need_ me there."

Lydia shrugged.

Allison popped her head above the changing room stall. "Stiles, why are you here again?"

"Uh, for moral support and also helpful critique from a male's perspective. Obviously," he scoffed.

"Also Scott and Isaac are doing werewolf things and Stiles wasn't invited," Lydia said.

Stiles slumped back against the dark purple painted wall of the Macy's women's dressing room. "Yeah, well. I decided to hang out with team human today, so."

"Am I, though?" Lydia pondered and sipped her coffee again.

"Yeah. Am I?" Allison's muffled voice sounded from behind the door. "Ancient hunter family and all."

The back of Stiles' head met the purple wall behind him and they began to make an acquaintance. "This was a bad idea," he said. "This entire thing is a bad idea."

The girls ignored him. "Allison, chop-chop. I don't have all day. I have ten outfits to choose from back home," Lydia called out.

"Okay, okay," Allison answered and struggled to pull her heel back on. She opened the door and stepped out. "Number five," she announced.

She had on a spaghetti strapped dress with a tight, sequined bodice and an A-line tulle skirt that hit at mid thigh. It was a light, dusted pink.

"Gorgeous!" Lydia cried. "This one definitely unseats Number 2 for the number one slot. And you're right, four is definitely out."

Allison smiled but looked towards Stiles for approval.

"Really nice," he said. And he meant it. But Allison's face scrunched. It wasn't the reaction she was going for tonight.

Lydia stood up, readying herself to leave, and Stiles groaned at the thought of hoisting himself up to a standing position.

"Wait," Allison said. "I actually have one more. Do you mind?"

Lydia's eyes widened. "Sure," she squeaked out. Lydia always chose Allison's clothing options. She loved it, and Allison did trust her taste in party dresses. But as they scoped the racks and Lydia and Stiles bickered, Allison picked up a dress on a whim. It was unlike anything she ever wore, and she wasn't sure she could pull it off but-

When she stepped back out of the dressing room she brought their incessant bickering to a complete stand still. Both of them stared at her; Stiles' mouth was open slightly.

"What?" Allison asked sheepishly. She felt stupid. She definitely couldn't pull it off.

"Holy crap," Stiles said. Allison's eyes bulged at him.

"It's too much," Allison said.

"What? No! I - I meant-" Stiles stammered.

Lydia shook her head. "Sweetie, give it a twirl." Allison complied.

She held her breath all the way around her pivoting feet.

"Yep. Yes. Definitely," Lydia said and Allison squealed and clapped her hands. "It's stunning. Perfect."

Stiles nodded. "It's absolutely perfect for murderous death parties. Spot on."

* * *

"You look seriously hot," Lydia said as they walked up the stone path to the twins' house. "What was the occasion again? Because you're going to drive Scott wild."

Allison's cheeks flushed. They were warm and rosy from the content of the flask they'd brought with them. "Murderous death party occasion aside...Who said it was for Scott?" she said. Lydia gasped a playfully surprised gasp and Allison giggled.

The twins' party was the event of the month at Beacon Hills high. Things had been quiet since Isaac, Allison and Scott had messed with them in the halls of the high school, and everyone was wary when the invitations went out. It was decided at a group level-though Stiles held out-that they should all go. It'd be a sign of good faith, a sign they could all act like normal teenagers.

"Okay, we're definitely going to talk about this after Stiles and I blindside Aiden and see if there's anything interesting we can recover," Lydia said.

Well, almost normal teenagers.

"Do they even pretend to have parents?" Allison said as they rung the doorbell.

"You remember what to do?" Lydia asked nervously. She was on edge. She and Stiles had the biggest task at hand.

"Yep," Allison nodded. "Act drunk, be slutty. Observe and report any and all odd behavior or movement. Got it," she said. "Wait."

"What?" Lydia said.

Allison held out her hand. "I need more liquid courage for this."

"Sweetie, you're not kidding," Lydia said and handed over the flask.

* * *

_So? What the hell is Allison wearing? I can't wait to write the party chapter. Stay tuned! _


	4. Chapter 4

_Sooo now that I feel like in canon Isaac's going to fall for Allison well before she even notices, I'm kind of even more super excited to be writing from Allison's pov and about all of her feelings. Yay! Anyway, thank you everyone for the comments, reviews, follows etc. Seriously any comment about what you liked or latched onto really helps me with inspiration and ideas, so do it! And also enjoy. _

* * *

_I walked into the room dripping, in gold.  
__I walked into the room dripping, in gold._

_Do you want me like the other boys do?  
__They stare at me while I stare at you._

_It's true, I crave you._

The front door opened and Allison and Lydia were pulled out of the cool night air and swept instantly to a hazy atmosphere of smoke, pulsing music, and sloshing alcohol.

"There you are, babe," Aiden said and instantly picked Lydia up and carried her away.

Allison faced the sea of thrumming bodies in front of her and didn't recognize anyone. The lights were off and strobe lights illuminated faces for nanoseconds in neon purple, yellow, blue. Fog machines diffused the lights in their haze and dubstep made the floor beneath her vibrate.

"Here," she heard a voice directed towards her. It was Danny, holding out a red cup. "You look like you need it."

She crossed the dance floor, skirting the edges, and felt the music begin to vibrate within her chest and engulf her. An opening filled with fog and flickering lights presented itself to her and she stepped through it. The music began to fade and only thumped slightly in the back of her head as the fog led her towards the back of the room.

Her stride picked up, wisps of smoke kissed her heels as she sauntered towards the punch table.

"Who wants to refresh my drink?" she said and held her cup up.

"Oh, Jesus," Stiles started and dropped the ladle into the punch bowl. "Hey … Allison," he said as he tried to fish it back out.

She waited, cup suspended in air as Scott stared at her, mouth agape, a dumbfounded look on his face.

"Uhh, yeah. Yepp. Yes," Scott stammered and reached for her cup but he stood still.

Allison raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked.

"Um, nothing," Scott said and had to shake his head. "Just. Wow, you look incredible." He handed her cup back to her.

"Told ya," Stiles muttered.

Allison swayed back and forth and smiled into her drink.

She had pulled a gold and black lace mini from a much too expensive rack. It hugged her neck and covered her shoulders, but sharp cutouts sliced the base layer, and her milky skin peaked through the golden dusted lace. It hit just at the top of her thighs. She accompanied it with only a pair of black high heels and a dark, smoky eye.

Oh, and bright red lipstick.

"Thanks," she said and blushed at Scott, but her eyes darted just above and behind him to where Isaac was leaning against the wall. His face was set and steely, but his eyes were bluer than usual. He broke eye contact the second her gaze found his and began to fish for something in his jacket pocket. He violently unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it in his mouth.

"Come on, we've gotta be convincing," he said to no one in particular and brushed passed her without another glance.

Allison followed his figure as it got lost in the fog. She clenched her back teeth together and ground them down before she downed her drink and held it out for another.

"Ahh, should you slow down maybe, Allison?" Stiles said even as he obliged.

She should. "Should you be mothering me, Stiles?" she snapped and yanked her arm back. "I'll be on the dance floor."

Soon she succumbed to the flashes of purple, yellow, green and blue, the bass beating in her chest, and the abandon that came with three cups of jungle juice. In the middle of the dance floor Allison could finally let loose. She was unconstrained, unconfined, uncommitted. She forgot for an instant the pressure she'd felt hammered down on her since as long as she could remember. She let go of the need for power and control. She let go of the inadequacies she tried to squelch every day.

When a hand grasped her shoulder she spun around, her reflexes kicking in. But it was just Scott. She saw his lips move but heard nothing. Everything was muffled and suppressed by the music. He pulled out his phone and began to type, held it up.

_Notice anything? _it read.

Allison grabbed his phone and typed back: _Aiden and Lydia are off to my left. _

_Danny and Ethan unaccounted for. Stiles won't make a move until we know where, _Scott answered.

Allison smiled.

"What?" Scott mouthed.

She took the phone back._ Hmmm. How to kill some time?_

She handed it back to him and flung her arms around his neck. Scott smiled his lopsided, adorable puppy smile and almost looked bashful. Allison began to fall back in rhythm with the music. All she wanted was to match it, be one with it. The heavy haze in her mind paid no attention to much else. Scott followed suit obligingly. He wasn't the greatest dancer in the world, but he got the job done and dancing with someone was absolutely better than dancing by herself in heels on a sticky floor with not-so-great balance at the moment.

His touch was familiar and welcome when he gripped her waist, and her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck as she moved closer to him. His body felt warm and comforting against hers, but his acute gaze wasn't something she was prepared to match and she pulled him closer, resting her head over his shoulder. When she looked out behind him she caught a glimpse of Isaac standing against the wall, staring directly at her and Scott.

Allison couldn't help but lock eyes with him. Even as Scott led their movements she remained fixed on Isaac, who looked on with a taut and caustic expression. His eyes were gloomy but brewed with an angry yearning.

Scott's phone buzzed in his pocket and when they pulled apart so he could retrieve it, she'd lost Isaac in the crowd. Allison felt a hollowness in her bones as she'd been pulled out of the rhythmic trance she'd found. She felt adrift on the dance floor, and a wave of dizziness almost knocked her over.

Scott's face fell. He held the phone up to her. It was a text from Stiles.

_S.O.S trapped in Aiden's closet. Lose track of anyone? _

Aiden and Lydia were no longer on the dance floor. Allison's eyes widened and she focused in on following a driven Scott off of the dance floor. She fumbled on her heels though and cursed under her breath as she struggled to push her way through dancing bodies.

She saw Isaac meet Scott just ahead and whisper something to him. Scott nodded and continued on. Allison tried to follow, but Isaac blocked her way.

"What are you doing?" she yelled and though she couldn't even hear herself, she knew he could.

Isaac moved closer and dipped down so his lips were right in her ear. "You're drunk," she said.

"They need help," she said and tried to push past him in defiance. She heaved against his chest with all of her might, balled up her fists and tried to drive through him. Isaac captured her wrists in one hand and spun her around, trapping her arms in front of her and yanked her flush against him.

His lips pressed against her ear from behind. "You can't do anything. Act normal," he said and he jutted his chin in front of them. They were very much in Ethan and Danny's line of sight, and Ethan was very much studying them and their odd behavior.

Allison froze. If he followed Scott…if he…

Isaac's arm snaked around her waist and his other hand led her arm up and over so she grasped the back of his neck and he began to pulse with the music. She leaned against him and let him support her, felt his hips rock against her and sway her along with the rhythm perfectly. It was sensual and hypnotic, and Allison let the alcohol induced fog she'd been fighting back engulf her.

Again she saw the world in flashes of green, red, yellow, purple, blue. Again she felt her body thrum from the inside out. And this time she felt Isaac's hands roam over her body, his hot breath at her ear. His hands traced her outer thighs, swept along her stomach, along her ribs, grasped her hips.

When she threw her head back to rest against his chest she looked up at him. His eyes smoldered, dark and stormy. She felt compelled to turn around and face him, lock eyes with him, match his devilish grin.

She closed her eyes and basked in the sensation of her cheek brushing against his, her fingers buried in his hair. Isaac's touch didn't calm her, but provoked her. They didn't fit together comfortably. They crashed together.

Isaac tensed, stopped moving. Allison, still wrapped around him, pulled back slightly. His jaw was pulled tight and he stepped away, looking over her. She turned and found Scott standing there, rigid and domineering.

"Go," he said definitively. "Take her."

Allison's brow furrowed. "Scott?"

"Now," he said firmly and Isaac clasped onto Allison's hand and pulled.

* * *

_Some extra tidbits if anyone is interested:_

_This is Allison's dress - (put "shop" dot "nordstrom" dotcom)/S/keepsake-the-label-stand-by-me-lace-body -c on-dress/3533610?origin=related-3533610-null-1-1-FTR-AHAM-Recently%20Viewe d&BaseUrl=Cocktail&PageCategoryId=BR_

_And the song at the beginning and part of my inspiration for this chapter is "Crave You (Adventure Club Remix) by Flight Facilities"_

_Thoughts? This was surprisingly hard to write. I think all of the incoming notifications made me nervous! But still ... keep 'em coming. :D _


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry for the several day delay! Had a rough week and my dad is visiting this weekend, but I've been working on this all week, and I have to say with so many story follows I'm now super nervous. I hope this continues to live up to everyone's individual expectations. And I mean dude, since there are so few Allisaac fics out there, I'm feeling the pressure. Assuage my fears! Or if something has steered off course for you, tell me also because it'll help me as I continue on. Anyway, enjoy! -Air_

* * *

Isaac was running too fast for her heels to keep up. His grip on her wrist was deadlocked and chafed.

"Come on," he urged as he glanced towards the back of the house to make sure no one was following them.

Her shoes scraped against the stone patio but soon sunk into the damp grass as he led her towards the woods.

"Isaac," she pleaded. "Stop." Allison was disoriented. Her head was swimming, her feet were muddy, and her heart was in her throat. The smack of cold air that hit her when Isaac yanked her out the back door made her eyes sting and she rather felt like letting them continue to water.

Once they were under the cover of darkness and within the shadows of the forrest he slowed and parked her behind a thick tree trunk.

The world was spinning around her like wisps of wind and she was trying to suck it into her lungs to steady herself.

"Allison," Isaac said, but her eyes were unfocused. "Allison, it's fine. Look at me." He grabbed her face in his hands. They were icy, but brought her back in focus.

"We have to help them," she said. "We have to go back, what are we doing?" Allison sprung from the tree and tried to move forward but Isaac held her in place. "Will you stop doing that?" she gritted through clenched teeth.

"Fine. You wanna fight the twins with a drunken left hook and in that dress? Be my guest," he said sardonically and held his hand out to lead the way. Allison pursed her lips and stood up defiantly. She brushed off her dress and took a step.

"Ah ah ah," Isaac said and sidestepped in front of her. "I wasn't being serious."

"I am _not_ drunk," Allison protested. Her cheeks flushed. Her resolve weakened; anger seeped in. "And I don't understand why we're out _here_ when Stiles and Lydia and…and Scott could be in trouble." She was raising her voice considerably now, but it cracked and faltered under her distress. Her confusion bundled up all of the worry and helplessness and anger into a tight ball and she felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Hey, hey," Isaac said and took her by both shoulders. "Hey," he said softly and dipped down to capture her eyes. "I hate it as much as you do. But we wait. Scott said to go. I trust Scott."

Allison's bottom lip quivered. She wanted to scream or cry and she wasn't sure which. But she nodded nonetheless.

And so they waited, backs against the tree, sulking in the dark.

"You know," Isaac said after a long silence. "You do look completely hot in that dress."

Allison's chest swelled, but she squashed it down, gritted her teeth and continued to fix her stare on the cavernous dark that enveloped the woods.

Isaac's phone buzzed deafeningly in their awkward silence.

"What? What is it?" Allison said.

"It's from Scott. They're fine. Stiles took Lydia home. He says, um...he says to head home," Isaac said and hesitated. He scratched his head. "Hey, why don't I drive your car back," he suggested in the most unnatural possible way.

Allison's eyes narrowed and she swiped his phone out of his hands. "Drunk girl: one. Werewolf reflexes: zero," she said haughtily and read the text. "He says to _take_ me home," she read and scoffed.

"Do you do everything Scott says? Like a lost puppy? Huh, Isaac?" she spit out like razor blades lined the edges of her mouth.

It was Isaac's turn to scoff now. He maintained an aloof attitude but she saw the back of his jaw twitch. "You really have an unhealthy problem with authority, don't you?" he said as if he were brushing her attack right off of his shoulders.

But she persisted. "And you're awfully comfortable following orders for such a _rebel," _she taunted and injected the last word with mocking derision. She stepped closer to him. "Is that why you won't touch me?"

"What game are you playing here, Allison?"

"No game," she said quietly and shook her head.

"Oh, really?" he feigned curiosity, and now he stalked up to her. "What about the dress? Dancing with Scott? Staring at me…" he lifted her chin up to face him with a nimble finger. "…the whole time," he drawled.

Allison gulped. "What about you, Isaac?" she said unevenly. "Dancing with me? Creating a diversion? Looking out for me? Please." She pushed him against the tree and leaned in close, her breath fluttering along the underside of his jaw. "You're playing a game too," she whispered. "The difference is, all of my cards are on the table."

She shoved him once more for good measure, just to make sure some of the bark splintered against his back, before she backed away to head to her car.

"I'm trying to do the right thing," Isaac called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder. "It doesn't suit you."

* * *

The car ride home was silent save for the humming of the engine. Allison leaned her elbow against the passenger's seat window and pretended to watch the passing trees. What she could really see was Isaac's reflection, and the fact that he'd glance over towards her as he drove.

When he pulled into her parking space and switched off the engine she remembered that he'd be opening the door too. He'd be riding the elevator up too. Sneaking down the hallway too.

"I don't want you to sleep here tonight," she said.

Isaac froze, his hand on the door handle. His eyes were wide and round, his face innocently bewildered. But Allison met him with a cool expression, stony and set.

"Where am I supposed to go?" he said quietly, embarrassed to have to ask that question.

Allison glanced at the keys in his hand. "You can stay in my car," she said and unlatched her door.

"Allison," he called as she hoisted herself up and out.

"Isaac, I'm tired," she said with a sigh. She was weary. Her bones felt heavy; they were hard to lift. But she wasn't just physically wrung out, she was tired of pushing, of trying, of plying. She was tired of wanting him, resisting him, teasing him.

She shut the door.

* * *

Allison didn't even bother to turn on her bedroom light, but latched her door behind her before dropping her muddy heels on the floor with a dull thump.

She stumbled around the corner towards her closet and before she could react she found herself being pinned against the wall, her wrists held tight above her head. She yelped and-

"Isaac?"

"Shut up," Isaac said in a gruff, hushed voice. He brought a finger to her lips. Her breathing slowed, his eyes were commanding in the intensity that kindled from them. He trailed his finger along her jaw, languidly around the outline of her ear and down her neck. She shivered at the fluttery light touch, and that shiver jumpstarted her, as if the nerves within her had been hot-wired. No longer did she feel the dead, dull weight from a moment before.

"Is this what you want?" he whispered, and his fingers skimmed along her ribcage and the slight curve of her waist.

Allison's mouth ran dry. She squeezed her eyes shut and licked her lips, desperate to be relieved of the stifling desert she was living in.

He released his grasp on her wrists and she collapsed into him, satiating herself by running her fingers through his curls.

"Open your eyes," he said and his hands glided up her thighs until they began to hike the skirt of her dress up.

Her parched lips ached to be quenched by the inviting mirage his promised, though he held them just out of reach, tantalizing, titillating, tormenting her.

"Come on," she whispered, but it was less of a command and more of a dare, and urging, a pleading.

She was suspended in time, waiting, thirsty for him when without warning he hoisted her up and crashed his lips to hers in one wanton movement. The dam burst. Her dressed bunched around her waist as her legs wrapped around him. He kissed her like he was starving. She kissed him like she was famished. She was impatient, he was greedy. They fed off of each other as their tongues dueled and teeth scraped and she broke away only to suck in frantic gasps of air.

Isaac peeled her back away from the wall and spun them around until his knees hit the foot of her bed and soon he was on top of her, his hips in between her legs, her feet curled around his calves. She pressed her hips up and felt the bulge in his pants and yearned for the friction until it'd burn.

He tore away from the kiss and she whimpered at the loss of the electric current that surged when their lips connected. He buried his head in the groove of her neck and she could see the heavy rise and fall of his back as he panted above her. She held a hand in his hair and breathed with him. The mutual rise and fall was calming. She knew what was happening.

"Hey," she whispered softly in his ear, stroking his hair.

Allison held his head in her hands and lifted him up to face her. When they connected her brown eyes met gold yellow and her breath hitched in her throat. The brown and gold lingered, suspended, swirled together and danced like temporary stars in the space between. Allison's head lifted from its comfortable resting place on her bed and floated slowly up to where he was looking down on her. Her lips reached out to graze over his. Her eyes never closed, never left the gold embers of his. She took his bottom lip in between her teeth and tugged, urging him back down with her.

But Isaac shifted and suddenly she felt trifling fingers grazing up her inner thigh towards her panties and though her heart was pounding so loud it was probably deafening him, she opened her legs to him.

His thumb brushed up along the fabric right at her center. "It's okay, I won't turn" he said in a hoarse voice. He slid two fingers under the lace and grazed. She sucked in a sharp breath and held it, couldn't let it go. "Do you trust me?" he said and dipped a finger into her. Her muscles convulsed at the intrusion-a welcome one-and pulsated with a wet, radiating heat.

Allison's mind was everywhere and nowhere. She couldn't focus on anything but Isaac's fingers inside of her, his thumb just teasing her clit. Finally she shook her head.

"No," she said in a cracked voice. "But that makes it better."

And she surged, her back arching off of the bed as he plunged another finger deep inside her core. Isaac was finished probing with caution and began to pump, his ministrations more fervent and heated with each new stroke.

Allison bucked against him and moaned, mewled, murmured, unable to discern senses other than the feeling of Isaac's fingers thrusting, curling, pressing. Pressure built within her. It was stifling. She urged him not to stop, don't stop, oh God whatever he did just...more.

The yellow of his eyes was suddenly too bright. They scintillated and throbbed and just when Allison thought there was only so much air left in the room for her to gasp in, she cried out. The yellow burst like an ebullient star, exploded and became a thousand tiny gold stars that danced and glimmered in the air and finally, slowly, fell down and fizzled out.

She finally exhaled.

He kissed her, soft and tender and chaste.

And then he was up. Her body alone felt too light when not weighted down by his, and too cold when not blanketed by him.

She sat up shakily. "Where are you going?" she said, more meek and lost than she wanted.

Isaac shoved a hand in his back pocket and pulled out a key. "Gotta get back to my car for the night," he said with a cheeky grin and strode out as she looked on incredulously.

* * *

_Oh man I haven't written in so long, let alone some smut. Hope it was okay, I'm still rusty with words and things. Thoughts? Share! _

_p.s. I answer every review because I literally love you that much when you talk to me idk. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Wow, so sorry for the long wait everyone! I'd spoiled you before with my writing binge. I had terrible writer's block for a little over a week but I finally met with a little inspiration, phew. I want to thank you all, as usual, for the clicks, favorites, follows, reviews, anything really. I guess you've made this story pretty popular in the tiny Allisaac fic world and that's amazing, thanks so much. I hope this installment continues to please. - Air _

* * *

Allison had become sharply focused. Gone was the crumbling, inebriated girl from the party. She'd decisively sworn off alcohol. After all, werewolves could never get drunk, she resolved to subscribe to that practice by choice. She preferred acute senses and a keen eye.

An arrow whizzed through the air and splintered tree bark in its wake. It was arrow number fifty before a three mile run.

She'd chosen a new portion of the woods, so as to shake Scott's protective presence, and found a honed in sort of peace there every day after school.

Sometimes Isaac would meet her at her car and she'd unwind by letting him go down on her in the back seat. Her toes would point and calves tighten as they traced down his back.

She'd found a local haunt: the public library, and began to do her homework, or other research, there late into the night. Sometimes he'd find her there, and set her atop the hidden back table strewn with books. "Shhh," he would tease, and she loved the way he peeled her cardigan off of her shoulder.

But even though he slept on her floor each night, he was like a ghost, appearing and disappearing as he pleased. Only school provided a consistent period of time where she knew she could see him, feel his presence, but it was off limits. Neither acknowledged the other, save for lingering glances in the hallway by the lockers, in study hall and history class.

The restraint was killing her. The same restraint she imagined he felt in the dark of her room, when her legs were wrapped around his waist. Sometimes Allison thought it must be harder to pull away from her, that it must take everything in him to do it. Sometimes she resented him. When he recoiled she felt a sharp pang rise within her and she would sit in a cold shower until it went away.

He had given in to her but he hadn't given her everything.

* * *

"You know Isaac asked me out one time in ninth grade," Lydia mused absentmindedly.

Allison froze and looked up from her history book, a twizzler dangling between her lips.

Lydia was painting her toenails on her bed, a Vogue magazine open to her side. She didn't look up. "Now that Aiden is totally mad at me for aiding and embedding Stiles' spying on all of his stuff…" she trailed off with a playful smile. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Allison said, dumbfounded.

"What do you think of Isaac?" Lydia said.

"What do I-" Allison stumbled over her words. "I mean I don't, um, I don't-"

"I mean he's gorgeous. I don't know why more girls aren't trying to lock themselves in the supply closet with him," Lydia continued on, then paused to consider. "Hmm. Maybe that'll be my approach."

"He doesn't like small spaces," Allison countered instantly.

"What?" Lydia said but shook it off. She was in her own head. "Anyway, I'm not focusing as well in Econ now that I can't let off steam during fourth period. I wonder if I make out with him he'll forgive me for being mean to him."

Allison tried to say something non-committal. _Maybe. Who knows. I don't know_. But she couldn't seem to unlatch her throat and she settled for a hurried nod and a tight smile instead.

"Then again, he doesn't really seem like a go-getter, you know?" Lydia said with an emphasized throttle of her hands. "More like a puppy-dog."

Allison choked on her twizzler and coughed.

"What's wrong?" Lydia said.

Allison's head buzzed, like a lawnmower was raking over her brain, and she tried to focus her eyes to the words on the page.

"Nothing," she managed to get out. "I um…I have to go," she said and clumsily scooped all of her books and papers into her arms. She tried to scurry out the door when Lydia's gasp stopped her in her tracks.

"Allison Argent," she said with considerable emphasis on the syllables of her name.

Allison grimaced and turned, her face scrunched. "Mmmhmm?" she said.

"Oh my God, you totally have a crush on Isaac!" she squealed.

Allison slumped against the wall. She was terrified, her eyes were wide and round and guilty.

"Well forget _me_, you need to corner him in the supply closet!" Lydia said with a devious smile.

Allison relaxed at the bubbly exuberance of her friend whom she should have known would never judge her, would tell her to own it.

"I told you," Allison smiled a knowing smile. "He's not one for supply closets."

Lydia gasped again. "You little minx,"she said and threw a pillow at her.

* * *

"Wait so, he really stops himself every time he?" Lydia whispered and trailed off.

Allison was chewing a piece of her bread roll, but widened her eyes in affirmation and nodded.

"Wow," Lydia said and leaned forward. "But he?"

"Is very generous, yes," Allison said and Lydia giggled. The infectiousness of the sound couldn't help but make its way to Allison, she shook her head as she took a sip from her water bottle. She nearly spit it out when Stiles plopped down next to Lydia.

"Who's very generous?" he said.

"What? No one," Allison said quickly.

"Stiles, not now," Lydia said and put a hand up, her voice firm.

Stiles made a face as Scott sat down next to Allison. "Oh," she jumped slightly.

"Hey," he said with a warm smile.

Allison matched his coolly. "Hi."

"Hey, Lydia, stop trying to play footsie with me under the table," Stiles said in mockingly appalled voice. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, man, that was me," Scott said with an earnest grin.

"This seat taken?" A third voice sounded. Isaac. Allison's entire body clamped up.

Lydia threw up her hands. "Since when did we become the most coveted table?"

Isaac hesitated until Scott moved over to make room, signaling that despite Lydia's outburst, Stiles' sarcastic outrage and Allison's stoic rigidity, it was okay.

Stiles tore into his pizza. "Don't act like you don't love the attention," he said to Lydia.

"Not from you," she sing songed. "I _used_ to populate the most coveted lunch table," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yep, until you started screaming in the middle of class," Stiles said. There was movement under the table. "Ow!"

"I think this is nice," Scott said. "Stiles and I always begged people for the last two end seats. It wasn't easy because he still brought his batman lunchbox freshman year."

Allison raised her eyebrow at Lydia, who returned the look. Boys. Not that they didn't love them, but boys never understood when girl talk was occurring, and seemed to somehow always interrupt.

"Everything about that sentence was so unnecessary," Stiles said.

"I used to eat alone," Isaac offered with a sideways smile.

"Trust me, it was better than suffering through Jackson," Stiles said and groaned.

Allison took in Isaac's pointed comment. How simple, and how detached it was from his previous life. She let the overlapping bantering voices of her friends run together and become fuzzy. A flash of a smile here, a playful eye roll there; the conversation was so easy and so light. She felt like a heavy bomb sitting there, waiting to detonate, ticking down to destruction.

She stood up with a jerk. "I'm going to grab my French book from my locker before the bell rings," she said and picked up her tray. She could feel Isaac's gaze following her all the way out of the cafeteria.

* * *

She was relieved to be alone in the empty hallway. She didn't know why she preferred quiet spaces, but all of the negative space calmed her. It was breezy, and she welcomed a shiver as she turned the dials of her combination.

A violent noise soon violated the buzzing silence when a hand slammed into the locker next to her. She turned to find Aiden hovering over her to her left and quickly pivoted to go right but his other arm crashed against the locker there and pinned her in place.

"Hey there, hunter," he said.

Allison felt supremely small, trapped and forced to cower between the cement prison of his arms.

"What do you want?" she panted, her heart rate rising.

"See," he said. "The thing is that our good friend Kali has spotted you playing with your little bow and arrow in the woods lately."

She closed her eyes, tried to compose herself.

"Gearing up for something, Argent?" Aiden asked thickly.

She took a breath in, filled her lungs, and when she opened her eyes they were ablaze.

"Just practicing," she said through gritted teeth.

"You know," Aiden leaned in close. "You're pretty good with that thing. But take it away, and what do you have? Hmm?"

Alison snapped and swung an arm up to deliver a low blow to his liver. Aiden's arm folded up and she tried to jerk her knee up to hit his nose as fast as she could, but he recovered and within a second clasped his hand tightly around her throat.

"See?" he said tauntingly.

Allison clawed at his wrist as he squeezed harder around her trachea and she struggled to suck in air.

"Allison!" she heard a voice call out from down the hallway. She darted her eyes over and saw a blurry Isaac running towards her. He collided with Aiden and the force of his momentum hurled him back and loosened his grip. Allison crumbled to the ground, heaving.

Isaac and Aiden wrestled on the floor and Isaac managed to polish off a solid punch before Aiden kicked him off and hoisted himself up.

"You're right," Aiden held out his hands, playing at peace and tilting his head in a cocky grin. "It isn't fair to pick on a girl."

Allison lurched forward from her seat on the floor but Isaac caught her. Her arms lashed out and she cried out, wishing she could tear Aiden to shreds. She saw him saunter away and fought off angry tears. They came anyway, and they stung. She let out a strangled sob as her arms curled around Isaac's bicep and held on for support. Her feet thrashed on the tile floor and she struggled to mollify her shaking limbs.

"Allison," Isaac said and untangled her limbs from his. He gripped her shoulders and settled her against the lockers. "We'll get them," he said, and his thumb trailed to her neck where it traced the emerging bruise. His featured darkened, his nostrils flared slightly even as his touch remained soft. "I swear."

Allison nodded lightly and gulped, but it hurt and new stinging tears rolled out from the corners of her eyes.

"Hey," he said under his breath and leaned in close.

"What happened?" Scott said and Isaac instantly snapped back from her.

"Aiden," he said as Stiles and Lydia scurried up behind Scott.

"Are you okay?" - "What happened?" they said over each other.

Allison was overwhelmed. She couldn't look up at them and continue to feel small. She looked at Isaac, who was still crouched on the ground in front of her, but had pulled away. He met her red rimmed eyes with stormy blue and she could feel him trying to reach out to her through them. They pulled her to him in his mind. They held her. She wanted to reach out. She wanted him to reach out. But nothing.

"Nothing," she finally said. "I'm fine."

"Your neck," Scott said.

"I said I'm fine," she said. "He just wanted to intimidate me."

She planted her palms on the floor and began to hoist herself up. Isaac held onto her arm and helped her up until she was steady. He didn't linger.

* * *

She went home without making it to French class. She wanted to shut herself away from the outside world. She hated the way the light poured into her room so she pulled her curtains tight until she could imitate darkness, and let it envelope her. Allison curled up in her bed and thought how she must look like a little, lost girl. She wanted her mom, even though her mom had never been one for comfort. But it was what she wanted and she squeezed her eyes shut until the empty pit in her stomach that yearned deeply for what was impossible to have exhausted her enough to make her fall asleep.

She stirred awake from a deep but heavy slumber to an arm snaking around her waist. She felt a lean, warm body curl around hers.

"Hi," Isaac whispered. He kissed her lightly on the top of her head and nestled his chin in her hair.

Allison didn't say anything, but she curled her arm on top of his and pulled him closer. A sliver of light escaped from her window and fled across the hardwood floor and she knew it was still day. She hated its brightness and turned from it, shifting to face Isaac.

They lay still like that, just like that, save for Isaac lazily twirling a finger in her hair.

"What if all I am is my weapons?" she whispered finally.

"You're not," he said.

"I'm nothing without them," she said and her eyes welled with new tears. "Take them away and…" she couldn't help but feel that Allison, just Allison, wasn't much different than the Allison trapped in the school so long ago.

"Objects don't have power themselves. They have to be wielded," Isaac said and brushed a thumb along her jaw and over her lips. "Now, if you want to carry chinese ring daggers in your back pocket twenty-four-seven, by all means…"

Allison let out a breathy laugh.

"But then I'm not sure we can hang out as much anymore," he said and cracked a smile.

"Hey, no fair" she said and pushed his chest playfully. "You get to carry your weapons around with you all the time." Her voice was hoarse and cracked under her raw throat. It hurt to laugh but it filled the empty spot in her stomach that had hurt even worse.

She toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "I hate feeling this way," she said absentmindedly. "Weak. Scared. Not in control."

Isaac exhaled. "Me too," he said and Allison looked up at him. Of course he knew. She weaved her fingers through his. He struggled with it every day and hated when it got the better of him.

And suddenly she felt whole.

Her brow furrowed, it was puzzling, because everything felt so right with so little having been said. It was like they communicated through other senses; the pads of her fingers on his chest told her so much more than any words could.

"What are we doing?" she said.

Isaac brought their interwoven hands up to his lips and kissed hers, his own brow etched in deep contemplation, trying to find the words.

"I don't know," he said.

It wasn't articulable.

"I know that we should stop," she said. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, threaded her legs in between his. She craned her neck and kissed his neck, along his Adam's apple and up. "But I don't think I can." Her words wisped against his lips.

"I can't give you what you want," he said.

Her lips swept his up, languid and full, and danced over them, relished in them. She pulled away just enough to allow for a small space of air for words to fill.

"You don't have to. I'll take it."

It wasn't a threat. It was a whisper, soft but full. It was a promise.

* * *

_As always, please come say hi and tell me what you thought! Dying to know. _

_Especially__ since I'm thinking of wrapping things up fairly soon so I can start a post mid-season finale story (so much going on in canon guys, my gosh!). I'd love to hear any and all thoughts, wishes, predictions etc. for where this will or should end up! _


	7. Chapter 7

_Well here we are, post summer season! Gah! Again, your thoughts, feelings, reviews have fueled me through a busy busy week and considerable writer's block. It's like every words you guys write helps me write two more, I swear. As always, I hope this continues to entertain. I love playing with the gender role reversal in this story. It's out of my comfort zone and really challenging but fun. Tell me everything. - Air _

* * *

He left the floor. He traded it in for a plush mattress and the crook of her neck.

Allison was sleeping better now with a heavy arm blanketing her.

At school tight-lipped expressions and yearning gazes gave way to slight smiles that would float up to the corners of lips like balloons. She hated to have to push them back down, as if trying to fit them back in a structured box when all they wanted to do was escape and dance. And she would watch as they deflated slowly from the corners of his mouth.

Whenever Aiden would pass in the hallway Isaac made sure to match Allison's steely glare with his own. His locker was six down from hers, and as Aiden would pass behind them and say various inane yet threatening things he thought were witticisms, their eyes would wander and meet briefly, and Isaac would tongue his cheek and roll his eyes.

One particular day in history class, Aiden sat next to her.

"Hey Argent," he whispered, but she looked straight ahead, searing white hot imaginary holes into the chalkboard. Isaac was behind her, and she heard him sit up straight from his slumped, apathetic position. His feet had been resting on the bottom metal bar of her chair, but they soon planted on the ground and he began to inch his desk closer to her.

Aiden glanced back. "Aw, do you need a big bad beta to protect you now?" he said.

Allison's pulse jumped. She shuffled in her seat and tried to shake it off. She waited a beat. But like most things, she couldn't. She hinged forward into the walking space between their desks. "You know, I once stabbed that beta with a pair of chinese ring daggers," she said saccharinely.

"Repeatedly," Isaac added.

Aiden stammered, faltering to find something to say to put himself back on top. Allison smirked and turned back to face the front of the room.

"When I come for you you won't have a chance to reach for a weapon," Aiden said finally.

Her heart jumped at the threat. She reached down to her boot and hooked a finger through a small ring poking out from the top, but a gentle hand reached out to hers and urged her indignation away. Stunned, she let go of the knife and curled her fingers around Isaac's instead. The pointy, metallic taste of rage in her mouth gave way to a cool breeze as she exhaled.

He didn't let go until the bell rang.

* * *

"It's time," Allison said.

"Not for another thirty minutes," Lydia said as she applied lipstick.

Allison groaned and covered her face with one of Lydia's pillows. "That's not what I mean. I mean it's time," she said.

She waited. Lydia continued to apply her makeup at her vanity. Nothing.

"I need to have sex," Allison muffled from underneath the pillow. "How do I make him?"

Lydia brought a curler to her eyelashes. "I don't know. Everyone's always wanted to have sex with me," she said.

"Me too," Allison huffed and removed the pillow, blowing pieces of hair from her face. She tilted her head back to look at Lydia upside down. "What do I do?"

"He wants to. You know he wants to. You just have to seduce him," Lydia said and turned to her.

"I have," Allison whined. She paused; flipped herself over onto her stomach. "I can't sit next to him tonight." Lydia's lips curled in and her eyes darted away. "Lydia, don't make me!"

"I planned this seating arrangement a week ago. It's the only one that makes sense," she said innocently.

"You realize how incredibly strange that is, right?"

"Mmhmm," Lydia hummed.

* * *

Allison soon found herself in the Martin's media room, squished in between Isaac and Lydia and watching Star Wars. A particular lunch conversation had led Stiles to insist that if they were all going to die that they all-and especially Scott-had to see Star Wars before their impending and untimely demise.

So naturally Lydia planned a movie night, and as Stiles struggled to keep himself from over explaining every scene to Scott, Allison tried to think of anything other than Isaac's thigh touching hers underneath the blanket Lydia had thrown over them.

She wanted to wipe the cool exterior right off of his gorgeous, dumb face. He was so relaxed, and she was so up-tight, sitting up straight as an arrow like she were in french class. Even when a nimble hand rested upon her knee and was courteous enough not to creep up higher, she kept all of her muscles taught, her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.

Soon the heat from his palm began to spread. It melted into her cartilage and seeped into her flesh like osmosis. It inched and inched up her thigh and curled under, resonating between her legs.

Allison jolted up from the couch. "I'm going to get some soda, anyone want anything?"

"Shhh," Stiles reprimanded and she held up her hands in sarcastic surrender.

"Isaac how about you go make some popcorn?" she heard Lydia urge in that menacingly sweet tone of hers as she rushed up the stairs.

Allison found herself standing in front of the open fridge in the garage, letting the dry, cool air emanate from the stock piles of soda. The florescent light flickered on her skin and the hair of her arm prickled.

A tall shadow soon descended over her and she shivered. His looming frame outlined hers and engulfed her. Hands roamed over her stomach and a chiseled cheek pressed against her ear. She gasped sharply for an intake of the cool air he was now stamping out.

"Isaac," she tried to object, but it came out more like a plea. A plea to which he obliged. He swept her hair away and fit his lips perfectly into the groove of her neck, grazing and peppering his hot breath along her skin without tasting.

Allison's head lolled to the side and she found herself leaning against him like a pillar. She thought if he stepped back she'd crumble to dust in his hands.

"I had to touch you," he whispered.

When his hands slipped between soft cotton and milky flesh her breathing ran ragged. Her shirt rippled as gruff hands cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing the underwire of her bra.

"Don't stop," she breathed and drove her hips back. She could feel his hardness through his jeans and smiled when he gasped.

"The popcorn," he protested weakly.

She brought a hand up to cup his jaw. "No," she whimpered. He caught a finger between his teeth and scraped lightly.

When he let her go she felt lightheaded and unsure of her footing. She had to go back to grab a ginger ale; she'd stumbled towards the door in a daze. When she reached the kitchen she saw Isaac staring at the island in bewilderment.

"What is it?" she asked meekly, feeling that her cheeks were bright red and her hair mussed.

Isaac licked his lips and scratched his head. "The popcorn. It's already here."

Allison smiled to herself.

_Lydia._

* * *

"Get in," Allison said as she rolled down her window.

"Are you trying to hassle me?" Isaac said.

"Maybe." She curled her tongue around her teeth with a wicked smile as he unlatched the door.

When the group dispersed she'd lost him, and reluctantly got in her car to drive home, but had found him walking along the side of road, hands in pockets. She figured that's how she ended up straddling him in the backseat, her car parked in a secluded wooded clearing.

Windows steamed, shirts peeled off, staccato breaths spoke volumes of poetry only they could understand. Tiny fingers hooked onto the hem of jeans. Isaac froze, lips still connected, hanging slightly open.

"Let me," she cooed onto his lips, sending the vibration through him. His breath hitched in his throat as Allison continued. She snapped the button open. "I want you all the time," she said and curled her spine in order to trace open mouthed kisses along his chest. She began to pull down the zipper tooth by tooth. "I need you. I need more."

"The moon," he said. "It's strong tonight. I - I don't-"

"Shh," she said and brought a hand to his cheek. "I'll be the moon tonight."

He was trembling underneath her. His eyes were glassy with vulnerability. She could see galaxies within them, swirling with constellations and wonder.

Her thumb traced his bottom lip. "We'll go slow," she whispered and her hand plunged beneath his boxers to wrap itself around him, searing hot and pulsing. She thrummed her fingers along his shaft as if dancing on piano keys. A groan caught itself deep in the back of his throat and he bucked into her, his back arching away from the sticky leather of the seat.

"Do you want me?" she whispered.

"All the time," he responded in a strangled voice.

The corner's of her mouth ticked up slyly. The veins in his exposed throat were practically throbbing and she surged forwards to suckle on his adam's apple. The sounds escaping his throat reverberated through her like an electric current and she could have sworn they were glowing.

She swiped a thumb over the tip of his cock and a low growl rose from his stomach. She knew that when he looked at her again his eyes would be yellow. But when he gathered his limbs and began to reel himself in he met a sharp blade against his throat where her lips had just been.

"Ah ah ah," she said. Keeping one of her ring daggers in her boot at all times was proving to be quite effective. Isaac pursed his lips and was about to protest when she lifted her chin, pressed her knife deeper into his skin and dissuaded him with a tsk. "I came prepared," she said, brown eyes dark and deep, and kissed him hard, playing with his lip in between her teeth and darting her tongue out to tease his canine that had erupted.

"It's time for you to," she said and she slowly began to pump her hand up and down. Isaac's eyes rolled back.

* * *

And so she set out to break down Isaac's barriers. The ones he couldn't control. The ones he was a slave to. He was a sensory creature and she found that while touch could speak to him, it could also terrify him. And as she learned the landscape of his body she mapped out every leftover scar from before he could heal.

Isaac had always associated the loss of control with panic and terror, where Allison had associated it with weakness. She understood more than he knew, but soon found his wounds went deeper than hers ever could. Where she could let herself go he never could. His entire life was on lockdown, he clamped it down and stomped it out every day.

Her hands tracing the groove of his hips tried to teach him that it wasn't the same. Her lips kissing down his happy trail tried to convey that some abandon was liberating.

"Remember," she would tell him. "The moon glows under my skin. You don't want to rip that apart." And he would worship that skin with the pads of soft fingerprints writing a silent symphony.

Sometimes when his eyes glimmered gold she could tell he remembered, and he recognized her as the controller of his own tides and celestial being of the night. The beast within him would brim, but she would keep it at bay, and slowly run her tongue along the base of his cock.

Other nights were harder. He would find it difficult to suck in a breath and would feel that he was suffocating, wild eyes radiating panic. He'd rush to her bathroom and lock himself inside, as if punishing himself for some transgression.

"Isaac," she would call, slumped against the other side of the door. "Isaac, please. Talk to me." But he wouldn't. And she would place her hand on the wooden door between them and carry the burden with him.

* * *

"Mmm, don't leave," she hummed into his arm when she felt him stir one morning.

"It's dawn," he rasped into her hair before kissing the top of her head. His arm flexed when he wrapped it tightly around her. He had to get up and out before her dad woke, but it was getting more difficult each morning when the warmth of their intertwined bodies still lingered.

Isaac hoisted himself up, but Allison hung onto his torso and without much effort urged him to fall back onto the bed. He crawled on top of her, sliding her t-shirt up as he kissed along her torso and between her breasts until he reached her clavicle. Her hands buried themselves in his hair as he kissed her before pulling away.

He stripped himself off the bed with great effort and got far enough away for just their fingers to touch and coil around one another.

"I'll see you at school," he said with a smile.

But she was up now. "Wait," she said and padded across the room. "I'll make some coffee before you go." And he kissed her on the nose.

She led him hand in hand down the hallway towards the kitchen, suppressing tiny giggles and hushed phrases so as to not to disturb the serenity of the early morning.

When they turned the corner she skidded on the hardwood floor and froze. If blood could actually run cold Allison's would have.

"Hello, Isaac," Chris Argent said.

* * *

_Ahhhhh guys I have to say I finally have an outline for this and I think I know where things are going! I have two more chapters planned. But let me know your wishes/fears/darkest desires as I will usually be inspired by something. What did you think of this chapter and where things might be leading? Talk to me. And until next time, xoxo._


	8. Chapter 8

_So so sorry for the wait, everyone. Writing this was a doozy, and then I went on vacation to my parents' house. Friendly reminder that I wrote this post 3x04 when Ethan/Aiden were still antagonists. Kinda had to stick with that. We all know they be gettin' redemption-ed on the show though ;) _

* * *

The clink of her father's spoon against his mug seemed to make her eardrums pop. She lost all detail except a ringing in her ears and a throbbing in her head. She felt a squeeze around her hand and looked down. They were still holding hands. Snapping back into her body, she dropped her grip and looked back at Isaac, eyes wild and black and filled with worry.

"Dad," she pleaded. "Listen I-"

"I'm not interested in an explanation, Allison," he said curtly, but cooly brought his mug of coffee to his lips. "It all seems pretty clear to me. You've been living in my daughter's bedroom for weeks, isn't that right, Isaac?"

Isaac held his chin a little too high. "About sums it up," he said. Allison crossed her arms. Now was _not_ the time to be flippant with authority.

"But I'm curious," Chris began and sauntered around the kitchen counter to face them more directly. He crossed his arms. Like father like daughter. "Why here? Under the roof of two hunters who have tried to kill you in the past? Who might again. There are safer places to go."

Isaac stood silent. Allison remembered when he'd appeared at her window, sopping wet and telling her he could come to her because it wouldn't hurt too much when he'd eventually be run out. She faintly wondered if that were still true, but knew by the way her stomach dropped that it wasn't.

"Is it because you two are sleeping together?" Chris said, his eyes icing up. He took a step forward.

"Dad," Allison interjected and placed herself in between the two men.

"Look, it's just a floor," Isaac said. "I pretty much live out of my locker and, and I just needed a place to sleep." His voice strained as he offered up a white flag of surrender.

Allison's eyes shimmered with salt and she held them wide and open, baring all. "He doesn't have anywhere else to go," she said.

"That's not our problem," Chris answered back with stern resolve and his gaze flicked up to Isaac. "Leave."

"It is my problem," Allison said and tears poured out and streaked down her cheeks. She caught Isaac turning from the corner of her eye and her body felt like it was cracking from thousands of minuscule hairline fissures all at once.

"Don't come back," Chris said, laying out a final warning as Isaac made headway to the front door. He nodded curtly, lips thin and sealed.

"Isaac," Allison pleaded, but he turned away wouldn't look back to her. "Isaac, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

* * *

Allison noticed her hand was trembling when she brought it up to the wooden door in front of her. She yanked it back and wrung her hands together in order to try to numb her nerves. She blew out a breath and raised it again; knocked.

"Mom, I'm leaving in five minutes, I swear," he called and opened his bedroom door. His face fell serious. "What's wrong?"

"Can I talk to you?" she said meekly.

Scott nodded and held his door open for her to enter. She continued to wring her hands together, drumming up the words from her gut, but she was short of breath.

"Hey," Scott said and covered her busy hands with his own. "Allison, whatever it is, it's fine I promise-"

"Derek kicked Isaac out," she blurted out.

"What?"

"And he needs a place to stay. But he won't ask you," she said.

Scott's brow furrowed. "How do you know all of this?"

She ran a hand through her hair nervously. "He's been let down too many times. You have to talk to your mom and make _sure_, okay?"

"Allison-"

"Will you do it?" she said and finally caught his gaze. She must have looked scared, because his pupils dilated and their blackness promised a comforting, enveloping darkness. But there was something like sadness in them too.

He stared at her like that for a long, drawn out moment until he gulped and finally blinked away those deep pools of compassion. "Yeah," he said quietly, a little unsure.

* * *

Allison stepped out of her car and the air bit at her nose. It was the first truly chilled day of fall and she felt as if she'd already lived a full day before the first period bell rang. She lugged a backpack over he shoulder in addition to her satchel and made her way through the gusts of wind and into the school.

She skipped homeroom in search of him, her tiny hand gripping the harsh fabric of the backpack's handle at her side with strange conviction. When she tip-toed into the boys locker room the hot steam from a recent shower invaded her lungs and steamed up her eyelids. She closed them tight to see clearly again and turned the corner.

His back was to her, sleek muscles moving under his skin as he yanked a belt around his dark jeans. His hair was damp and curly, and instead of disturbing his presence she leaned against a locker and savored in him, drank him in.

"I know you're there," he said, head down as he threaded his buckle.

Her lips curled up. "I know," she said. She tilted her head and lifted his backpack up when he turned. "Brought you something."

He broke into a devilish grin and sauntered towards her. "Good," he said and lifted her up in his strong arms. She dropped the backpack. He pushed her flush against the lockers and the collision made the metal clang and echo.

Legs wrapped around hips and arms around his neck as he crashed his lips into hers, clawing, clashing and crushing. His forcefulness sent her head spinning, and she saw flashing, sparkling globes in her eyes.

"Isaac, we need to talk," she said.

"No," he said and his voice was like steel. "No talking." Instead, he closed the small gap of space between them completely and thrust his groin against the corduroy fabric of her shorts. A moan escaped from the back of her throat and a surge of heat began to flow wild and unbridled to her core.

His brusqueness scared her, but ignited her. It set her on edge and she writhed there, yearning for more friction, like a flint lighter. The spark caught when the bulge in his pants rubbed just the right way against her clit and she gasped and hissed "more" when the bell for first period blared in her ears.

Isaac dropped her down to her feet and struggled to peel himself away, dipping his head low between her breasts before finally stepping back, breathing heavily, mouth agape and hair disheveled. He stared at her like that as she remained frozen against the lockers until he broke away to find his shirt.

* * *

She sat in history class and heard muffled, mumbling sounds instead of words because all she could do was stare at him. By the middle of class she'd memorized the movements the muscles in his neck made when he turned. She locked into his lips and the way he bit his bottom one when he was bored. He slumped apathetically in his desk and cared little about where his long limbs landed and she thought it was unbearably hot.

She snapped out of her reverie when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and held in under her desk. A text from Scott read simply, _"Mom said yes. Good to go." _She smiled to herself, her cascading hair masking it and she began to type, but not to Scott.

When he received the message on the other side of the room she studied him with anticipation bubbling from her fingertips as he read. But instead his face fell, and the bone at the back of his jaw tightened and poked out. He looked up but when he caught her eyes he dropped his and cleared his throat.

Allison didn't understand. She tried to catch his attention but he averted her silent, minuscule gestures with a finger to his temple and a sulkier sulk in his chair than normal.

Finally the bell rang and Isaac darted from of his seat and out the door as fast as he could, with Allison following suit. She turned the corner, picked up the pace of her stride and weaved through faceless students after him.

"Isaac!" she called out brazenly, not caring who saw when her lungs felt pressure crushing them like they did. "Isaac, wait," she said, her voice pulling with worry.

He stopped short and pivoted towards her, bringing her frantic step to a forceful halt. His features were contorted and bulging, like when Ethan and Aiden had toyed with him all those weeks ago, and she reeled from that look being directed at her.

"You don't get to decide that, Allison," he said severely. "It's not up to you."

Her mouth fell open. "I just thought-"

"You had-" he raised his voice and it boomed through the hall before he stopped himself and started over. "You had no right," he said low but definitively before he walked away.

Allison found herself dumbstruck in the middle of the hall as people brushed by her. She glanced to her surroundings and found others staring; saw Lydia and Aiden by her locker, fluttering coy eyes her way.

* * *

The only thing she could do to drown out the chatter from her head was to sit in the shower, holding her knees to her chest and letting the drops of water fall rhythmically over her head. It helped for a while, until the water turned cold and her ambivalent shame turned into prickly anger.

Allison considered slipping under her sheets in just her towel and refusing to move for the rest of the night when her phone buzzed from the bedside table. Isaac's name glowed in the darkness of her room.

_Meet me at the training spot? I'm sorry._

Her hair was still damp when she parked her car and stepped out into the night. Her boots crunched on the fallen leaves of the forrest floor and her breath curled around her when she exhaled. Her leather jacket cooled straight through within minutes as she prodded along, stepping over raised roots and avoiding jagged rocks.

She passed a particular tree torn raw from her arrows, the rest she'd pass would look the same, as if her area were marked as territory. But she didn't see him, and the air between the shredded trees hung with a thick density of blackness.

"Isaac?" She called out, unsure. And the crunch of leaves below her boots was too loud for comfort. So she stalled, stood still. She heard a rustling to her left.

She rounded the girth of a large cedar and paled.

A whirring sound buzzed through the air. An arrow impaled itself into a tree about twenty yards in front of her. But before if could splinter the bark it tore through the flesh of a bicep.

Isaac's bicep.

He was tied to the tree, and nearly half a dozen arrows protruded from his body. Allison's chest heaved. "No," she cried out and began to run to him.

"Allison, don't! Run!" he yelled.

Her charge was halted by Aiden, who cut off her view from Isaac and dangled her very own bow in front of her with a fiendish smirk.

"Hey Argent," he said. "Look what I found in your trunk after school. And…_who_ I found by your trunk, too."

With a calculated glare, she bent for her boot, but a crushing grip yanked her arm away and twisted it behind her back. She grunted as she was forced to stand stick straight and face Aiden once more, without a weapon.

"Thanks, brother," Aiden said as Ethan dug into her boot to pull out her knife and held it to her neck. Aiden stalked towards her.

"Don't touch her," Isaac called from behind him and her lip quivered against her will.

"We told you to stop playing with your fancy werewolf hunting weapons, but you didn't. And here you are. Finally. No weapons. No power."

Allison's matted hair stung her cheeks and she licked her lips before she could speak. "What do want?" she asked, her voice scratchy and dry.

Aiden flicked a nod towards Ethan before returning to her, invading her space and leaning in close. Ethan yanked her wrists from behind and she felt a rough burn as he tied thick rope around them. Then her ankles.

"I want you to watch," Aiden whispered.

He turned her back to her and drew back the bow. Her knees weakend and she dropped to them. When the arrow released she screamed, and searing tears streamed down her face. Over and over Aiden pulled back that bow, and Allison pleaded with him and begged him to stop. She called out Isaac's name. She told him to hang on. She told him he'd be okay, even when all he could do was grind his teeth down and growl through the pain. She screamed and sobbed until her throat grew as raw as the trees she had frayed.

After a while her strength failed her and her body gave out. She slumped into the matted, muddy leaves on the ground, her cheek cooled from its hot tears by the earth, her body racked with silent sobs as her voice had left her what seemed like ages ago. She saw him sideways, nearly twenty arrows goading her and laughing at her from every limb. His head was limp. And through her cloudy tears she saw the twins cut him down from the tree and let him fall like a rag doll to the ground. They stepped over Isaac's body, and then hers.

She was cold. Too cold. And as something foggy crept its way from the back of her eyes and slurred her vision, she caught a dulling glow from the yellow of his eyes across the same horizon of forrest floor where they lay, and thought she was meant to watch him die.

* * *

_This chapter was intended to go on, but I wrote so much and wanted to get something out to everyone. Which means that there might be two more chapters after this! I will finish it, believe you me. I'm 100% dedicated. In the meantime, please review/comment/yell/scream/cry. It'll motivate me! _


	9. Chapter 9

_So sorry for the delay! Aaaaaand go!_

* * *

She opened her eyes. Everything was so quiet. Everything except for her short, shallow breaths. Had she been here for hours? Years? Was she breaking apart and feeding the roots of the forest floor and inviting the winding vines to wrap around her ankles?

"The vines," she croaked. "Isaac…the vines."

Isaac was still, his eyes were open and empty, but they found her. "You're shivering," he said quietly, but it must have taken most of his strength to muster up because he then closed his eyes and released all of his work in the form of a heavy pocket of air from his lungs.

Shivering. She was shaking and her teeth were talking; clattering. The peaceful quiet of the woods was broken and she couldn't sink into the earth anymore. It wouldn't let her.

The vines!

She wanted to sleep, but she knew she had to untangle herself. First, she unplastered her cheek from the ground and lifted her head, which was heavy and filled with sand. Her vision went blurry as she hoisted herself up to a seated position and bent her knees to her chest. Digging the heels of her boots into the earth, she lifted herself up just enough to pull her arms under her and forward. The maneuver was trying on her muscles and she groaned. Her head sloshed.

"Allison," she heard him whisper, but she was busy. She outstretched her arms and compressed her legs so that she could slip them over her feet and once again have them in front of her. Crawling on her tethered hands and knees, the brush tore at her tights and slashed them open, like artificial symbols of what Isaac's arrows were truly doing to his flesh.

When she got to him she collapsed once more, but this time by his side. The small journey to close the gap between them seemed to have stretched on for miles and taken the will of her body and the strength of her mind.

Her staccato breath held his name upon it as it left her. "Isaac." It was a whisper. A completion.

"We have to get them out," he said. "Or I can't heal." An ongoing pain poured out from his eyes and strained his pupils. An excruciating pain that must have coursed through him and yet he was immobilized.

But soon her own eyes mirrored that same pain. "Isaac, those arrows are like tire spikes. You can go forward but not back. They're made so you can't tear them out."

His eyelids descended in resignation. There they were, n their sides, facing each other and inches away. Yet all they could do was lay still. Allison knew there was something more that could be done, but she couldn't figure out what. She chased it, tried to pin it down, but she couldn't concentrate. It was floating away from her and it took all of her focus left in her mind to finally grasp it.

Her phone. She fumbled her bound hands at her side as she tried to retrieve it from her jacket pocket. Her fingers wouldn't work. They were clumsy and wouldn't listen to her. Over and over she tried, the simplest of tasks evading her, to the point where she yelled out in frustration. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed through her teeth, finally gripped the phone between fingers and pulled it out. It flung to the ground beside her.

With her final faculties she called the most recent number she'd dialed and let her heavy head rest once again on the ground, the phone by her face. When it stopped ringing she knew to speak.

"Lydia. Tell Scott. Where I train. Isaac. He's hurt. I hurt him. Please. Help."

And she let herself drift into the fog.

* * *

She woke again to the sound of her name. It was yelling. It was yelling at her. It was yelling for her. No, she thought. Not me. Scott's voice grew closer and descended upon her. His blurry frame ran into crisp focus.

"Isaac," she cried out and was surprised to hear her voice coarse and small. It came out like a whimper and fell. Scott's eyes flew to Isaac on the ground behind Allison and as she heard the running rustling of the others' steps she looked up at him. "Go," she pleaded and he obliged.

Soon Lydia was crouched down beside her and took her in. Whatever she saw reflected concern upon her face and Lydia promptly sat down on the ground along with her. She hoisted Allison up to a seated position so that her back rested against her own. Lydia stroked her damp hair and held her. Soon Allison registered that she was speaking, but was too engrossed by how Scott and Derek lifted Isaac's limp body off the ground.

"The tire spikes. Don't forget the tire spikes," Allison called out at them.

"What's wrong with her?" Derek's surly voice asked as he gripped Isaac's calves.

Lydia felt Allison's cheeks, but she hardly noticed. "Allison? Sweetheart?"

"Is she okay?" Stiles voice sounded from behind her. "Lydia?"

"She has symptoms of hypothermia," Lydia said. "Give me your jacket."

"Where are you going?" Allison suddenly urged. "Where are you taking him?" The strain in her voice matched her sudden confusion as to why Isaac was leaving her sight. A heavy cloak fell upon her shoulders and she felt suffocated, lost in the whirring chaos of the moment when just before things had been so quiet, so peaceful.

"She has to go to the hospital," Lydia sad quietly, but insistently to Stiles. Like a parent talking about an unruly child under her breath.

She heard it off in the distance, but her focus remained resolute. "Isaac!" Allison yelled. Scott and Derek were carefully unloading him into the car, but dashed back down the hill to convene with the others.

Voices whirled around her, clattered against her and confused her.

"…and I will take him to Deaton…" Scott said.

"…how bad…" Stiles said.

"…touch and go…" Derek said.

"…her lips are blue…" Scott said.

"…call your mom…Stiles and I…to the hospital..." Lydia said.

Allison's chest lurched forward. It swelled and she tried to claw at the earth with her fingernails, but Lydia held her up. "Don't," she said, cold tears welling up and smearing her dirt stained face. "I want to go with," she said.

Lydia tried to soothe her with a _shhh_. "Sweetie, we've gotta get you to a doctor, okay? Scott and Derek will make sure Isaac's alright."

A swelling rage curbed in her throat at the sound of Derek's name. And Derek's presence. And Isaac in the car. A different car. And she let it tear out through her esophagus and into the night air, guttural and raw. She flailed and tried to wriggle away with the little energy she had left. But her coordination wouldn't let her wring free from Lydia's embrace.

"Stiles…" Lydia pressed and soon Stiles was in front of Allison, trying to restrain her.

"We're fine," Stiles looked at Scott. "Go."

"Please let me go with him," Allison cried. "Please. I love him."

The woods were quiet again then.

* * *

The moon radiated heat and bounced off her skin. She, on her back staring up at it, let the thick summer night air fill her lungs. Tall grass from the meadow caressed her exposed skin. She was naked.

"Mmmm," she sighed, heavy and thick like molasses. "I've always liked warm summer nights better than hot summer days."

She looked down, a warm cheek lay upon her bare stomach and she played languidly with the loose, brown curls that stared back up at her.

"What is it with you and night?" he mumbled into her skin. "I can hear the crickets thrumming in your chest."

"Good," she sighed and stretched out her limbs. "I wake in starry heaven when the sun is sunk in slumber. The moon upon my forehead."

The grass pricked and tickled at her skin, rendered taught and sensitive by the ministrations of his lips, which began to worship her moon drench skin from her naval up to the underside of her breasts. His head lowered to revere her flesh. The sharpness of his broad shoulder blades pierced the night sky.

He parted her legs, and she lay open to the moon and stars and earth.

"My Artemis," he whispered and positioned himself at her entrance. She gasped. "My huntress," he said and thrust himself inside.

* * *

Allison lurched forward with startling momentum and a heaving, desperate gasp of air to fill her lungs. She remembered warmth under her skin. And radiance. But she felt cold now. Florescent lights beamed down on her and structured cement walls met her at every turn. She was weighted down by something heavy, like a sandbag, and she looked down to find herself in a hospital bed, draped by a blue sandbag blanket contraption.

She began to struggle to peel it off, yanking her arms out from under it and letting them free.

"Allison-" Lydia's voice urged as she walked through the door with a foam cup of steaming tea. She set it down and rushed to return the restricting weight, right up to Allison's neck. "Sweetie, please keep it on. We've got to bring your body temperature back up to normal, okay?" Her voice was like honey. A raspy, lovely honey.

Allison nodded, but her eyes filled with irrational tears. "I hate it," she said and her voice quivered. "I'm trapped."

"You're not," Lydia reassured.

"I'm weak," Allison returned.

"A hundred pound girl went outside on the night of the first frost with wet hair, a leather jacket and tights with shorts. And then got tied up in the woods. It happens," Lydia said matter-of-factly with a shrug and a slight smile.

Allison smiled too, and her body eased before clamping up again. "Isaac," she said with alarm and tried to shift again, but Lydia planted a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Is in surgery at Deaton's vet-for-wolfiness," Stiles' voice sounded in the doorway. He didn't come in, but leaned against the frame, tapping his foot on the tile. He darted a look at Lydia, and they seemed to share a conversation in silent expressions.

"And?" Allison asked expectantly.

Stiles' eyes burned and Lydia's dropped. "Allison, do you remember what happened? Specifically _how_ this happened?" Stiles asked solemnly, but with a biting ferocity.

"Aiden," she said and then searched within her for the memories, the images and feelings that were mushed together. "He got my arrows. Lured me…"

"Why Isaac?" He pressed. She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Do you remember what you said?" Stiles interrupted. His foot tapped harder against the tile.

"Stiles," Lydia chided.

Allison shook her head. She was like a doe; a blanketed doe that didn't know there was a trip wire at her feet of her own doing. She squeezed them shut, trying to squeeze out the memories and make them more clear. "I don't…I don't…there was…they made me watch. And then the rope and…" she couldn't, and felt frustrated and angry and tired again. "Please," she said softly. "Just tell me he's okay."

"You said you loved him," Stiles blurted out. His face was gloomy and angular, shadows hitting below his eyes, his lips taught.

"Really?" Lydia called him out indignantly. "Now is _not _the time," she whispered under her breath.

Worn. She was so worn. "Just tell me," she said. She had no fight left in her.

Stiles clenched his jaw and crunched his nose before resigning. "We don't know yet."

She slumped her head to the side and into her pillow. She wanted to sleep again. She wanted to sleep and return to the meadow and the warmth and-

"You should get some warm liquids in you. The doctor said so," Lydia said and pressed the cup of tea on her lips. "Here," she said softly and Allison obliged.

* * *

She slept intermittently for what seemed like days, though they told her it was just through the night. Her dad arrived and sternly fretted over her. Stiles remained the surly deliverer of news from his phone, reporting what Derek sent his way. And Allison sent everyone out of the room to sleep except for Lydia, who would stroke her hair and hold her hand under the heated blanket.

After a while her mind was more clear. Her blood pumped faster and stronger and fueled it, returning to her her faculties, including her decisiveness. She would go to him, she told Lydia, with or without her help. Her jaw was set, her resolve was unshakable. Lydia tried to appear disapproving, but a mischievous sparkling in her eyes gave away that she was all too happy to oblige Allison's return to trailblazing.

And so Lydia dressed her in sweatpants, a sweatshirt, Uggs, and a heavy winter hat; she was swimming in the getup, almost lost within it. Good, Lydia said. She'd be damned if she let Allison pass out on her watch.

They set out in the dead of night, as Stiles slept in his familiar bed of pieced together waiting room chairs and Chris upright in the corner. Armed with a thermos of hot tea and a blasting heater in the car, she kept her teeth from chattering, but as they grew closer to the clinic she felt a chilling in her bones.

Her face was pallid, and when the gear shifted into park she was immobilized. Lydia got out and walked around, opened Allison's door and helped her out. Her legs shook, from weakness and fear and uncertainty.

When the bell clanged as they opened the door, Derek greeted them.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, arms crossed.

Allison glowered. "_You_ shouldn't be here," she countered and found her legs suddenly steady, powered by anger. She stalked up to the waist high gate that separated the waiting room from the real quarters of the space, but Derek blocked her entrance. "Don't," she warned.

"I'd heed the warning," Lydia piped up. "She's quite obstinate at the moment."

Derek's lips curled down at Lydia's flippant remark, then he zeroed in on Allison. "Haven't you caused enough trouble, already?"

She squinted her eyes and nodded tersely, a sardonic smile creeping up. Along with it came her right hook, which connected with his jaw and caught him so off guarded that he stumbled back with a grunt.

"Me, Derek?" she jeered and advanced through the gate. "He wouldn't _be_ in there if it weren't for you. Don't you dare pretend to care." She jutted her chin up as she passed by him in defiance, and a haughty Lydia followed suit.

"I was trying to protect him," he said. "Look what good your method did."

The hair on her arms stood up at his statement, but she shot him a disdainful, passing look and opened the door to the back room with steely intent. Intent that dispersed as soon as she took in the scene before her. She paled as she took in the dark pool of blood on the floor, traced it back to the body on the aluminum operating table, still and lifeless and white, like a statue.

"Allison," she heard and Scott's arms shielded her, wrapped around her so that she could bury her face in his shoulder. She wanted to scream, but if she opened her throat she feared she would vomit. She remembered how her father held her like this-exactly like this-when her mother was on a table in the distance, a cold, blue sheet drawn over her. "It's okay," she heard a reassuring whisper in her ear. "He'll heal."

Deaton pulled up an uncomfortable steel chair and she sat beside the table. She sat as he and Scott mopped up the floor. She sat as the others stood, and whispered. She sat as the color slowly returned to his body, even as hers grew more ashen. She sat as Lydia fed her coffee and as her eyes grew dry; as she fought off her chattering teeth; as his chest began to rise and fall with more might. She sat as Lydia's phone rang and as her father arrived; as the sun rose and as the bright, golden rays warmed his skin. She sat as they tried to pull her away; as she intertwined her fingers with his, as she felt him squeeze.

As he opened his eyes.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," she whispered back, a broad, bittersweet smile sweeping across her face before being ushered back to her hospital bed.

* * *

_This was plot heavy, I know. It got away from me, logistically speaking. It was long for barely any interaction, so I hope hope hope to get the next chapter up asap. Work has been insane, but very very good things are coming. xoxo. _


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